


Fists of Furi

by TallDarkandNerdy



Series: One Fist Man [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Fisting but not the kind you expect, Furifisting, M/M, One Fist Man, One Punch Man Parody, Sorry Not Sorry, Super gay superheroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 02:23:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6176545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TallDarkandNerdy/pseuds/TallDarkandNerdy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last thing the mighty Pork-U-Pain ever expected to face during his violent rampage of the city was a hero who fisted for fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fists of Furi

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, before I'm judged, I just have to say that it was never my intention to write about fisting superheroes. But based on the hilarious jokes about Furihata not knowing what fisting was from [incorrectknb](http://incorrectknb.tumblr.com) and [HeemaWren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/HeemaWren/pseuds/HeemaWren), I really couldn't help myself.
> 
> Yes, they really don't know what fisting is. They think it's just a cool new name for the extreme hits and punches Furihata can throw at villains and no one has the heart to tell them otherwise.
> 
> Ahem, anyway. Happy reading, and may the fisting ever be in your favor.

The city was quiet as the morning sun peeked above the skyscrapers. It was too quiet; the streets that were usually filled to the brim with the fast movement of pedestrians and the sound of exhaust from the morning rush traffic were silent. Where there should have been food carts and newspaper vendors were empty curbs and crumbled fast-food bags. There was no scent of greasy food, no excited chatter of tourists or grumbles of businessmen. It was lifeless.

 _Crash._ Almost lifeless.

“Ha! What’s wrong, worms?” A hulking figure loomed in the middle of the barren intersection, examining the handiwork he made of a destroyed fire hydrant. A car was balanced in his hand the same way a baseball was gripped by a seasoned pitcher. The monster snorted through his boorish nose, and juggled the car as though it were filled with helium. “I should’ve known that such a weak species like yours would’ve tried to hide from your demise like  _dogs_ ,” he growled. “But all in vain. I’ll snuff you out, one by one!” 

With a grunt, he hurled the car into an adjacent store window. The glass shattered from the force and sent debris and splintered window frames flying onto the sidewalk. Screams echoed from inside the rubbish and a band of horrified civilians peeked through the gaping hole of the storefront. A little boy tried to stand up and grab his teddy bear from the rubble, but his mother pulled him against her skirts and tightened her grip on his arms. 

The giant pig-man trudged closer, and curled his lip at the sight of the frightened shoppers. “Look at you, spooked and pleading for your lives,” he cackles. “Don’t worry. By the time I’m through with you, you’ll be wishing for death—“

His speech was cut short by a blinding magenta flash and a hard body striking against him. He stumbled to the side and clutched his left cheek; a violent bruise formed under his leather skin and swelled beneath his hand. He turned to look at the newcomer, hiding civilians long forgotten, and spat out a tooth. “No insect has ever managed to take the Savage Pork-U-Pain by surprise! Tell me: who dares try to disrupt my hunt?”

The man was silent, and held himself in a defensive stance a few feet away. There was no way to see his eyes with the thick curtain of red bangs dangling over them, but the Savage Pork-U-Pain knew that he was being scrutinized carefully. His robotic arm fizzled at the wrist, where his damaged hand hung limply after the hit. He expelled a cloud of steam to cool down his engine, and finally spoke. “Just someone trying to do what’s right.”

The cyborg only received a sneer in response. “Hmph, so noble. I’ll hang your head over my mantle.”

“Just try. I’ll assure you that it won’t be my head used as a trophy.”

“Such big words for a small beast. Should I be impressed, Scrap-metal?”

“You should.” He brushed his bangs out of his eyes with his good hand. “But I’m nothing compared to my master. Not even you could stand a chance against him.”

The Pig squealed with laughter. “Oh yeah?” he mocked. “Does he expect me to grovel at his feet?”

“More than that.” He straightened his posture and finally stared at the boorish villain with a sharp, cruel smile. “He fists for fun, and he’ll fist you until you break.”

The monster halted, shocked speechless for the first time during his rampage as his smirk dropped into a incredulous gape. “…He’ll wha—?”

Before he could finish expressing his disbelief, a second figure materialized before him. This one was small in stature, like the rest the humans the boorish mongrel preyed on, but an ominous power radiated off him in waves. His hands were clenched into fists, and seemed to move in slow motion as they reeled back and slammed into his chest. It was only after his ribs shattered and his lungs caved in when the once invincible Pork-U-Pain had a daunting realization: the only being who could overpower him—who could  _kill_ him—fisted for “fun.”

The monster’s dilapidated body slumped to the ground, spared by death from feeling utter humiliation and slight disgust in his defeat.

The hero stood stock-still, fist still frozen in the place his adversary’s heart once was, but relaxed when he took a deep breath and looked around the damage. “Sorry for running late, Akashi,” he said sheepishly, and turned to smile at his partner. “The lines at SuperShopper were ridiculous!”

Akashi’s hard expression gave way for a softer smile, and he stepped closer to his master. “No worries, Master Furihata. Your fisting was still impeccable as always, even with the delay.”

Furihata grimaced, and shook his head. “Akashi, I told you not to call me that—wait, what happened to your arm?” He closed the distance between them and clasped his hands gently around Akashi’s split wrist. “Did you get this from fisting Bacon-on-Legs?” He shook his head and brushed his fingers over Akashi’s palm. 

Akashi’s fans whirred loudly at the contact, but he only hoped that the other would assume it was from the exertion of the battle. “I-It’s nothing I can’t fix by myself—“

“Nonsense,” he tutted, prodding at one of the loose wires from under the steel plates. “I’ll help you repair it as soon as we get back home.”

“If you say so.”

“But seriously, you need to stop fisting so recklessly!”

“Yes, master.”

“I told you not to call me that!”

“Alright, Furihata-sensei.”

“Not that, either!” He puffed his cheeks out, and glanced up at Akashi in exasperation. If he had a nickel for every time they’ve had this talk over the past month, he could monopolize the entire railway industry. “If you’re going to use formal honorifics, at least call me Kouki!”

The cyborg didn’t respond immediately. For a moment, Furihata began to worry that he broke the other with the idea of having semi-casual interactions (he wasn’t even sure the redhead even  _knew_  the word “casual”), but Akashi gave him one a small, sweet smile and nodded. 

“Okay…Kouki-sensei.”


End file.
